Fallout
by Frogster
Summary: Patrick Jane might have sold his soul to the devil, but Mother Teresa Lisbon would be damned if she let him go without a fight. SSS fic for hardlyloquacious. Rewrite of episodes 2x22/23 from Lisbon's point of view. Please read and review!


**Author's Note: This is my Summer Secret Santa submission, written for Hardly Loquacious. I used her prompt "Selling one's soul to the devil." Thanks to Yana for betaing. HL, I hope you like it, and that the rest of you do, too! Please review!**

**Spoilers: Major spoilers for 2x22 and 23, minor spoilers for the episodes preceding them.**

**Rating: T to be safe and for one word in the last sentence, but I used it in the Biblical sense, so it's not that bad.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own The Mentalist or any other copyrighted material referred to within. If I did, Kristina Frye never would have shown up again, and we wouldn't have had that disappointing season finale. Now if I can just get Patrick Jane for my birthday….**

Looking back, Teresa Lisbon decided that recent events had been just waiting to happen. While the CBI had not lowered itself to complacency—Lisbon didn't think she could ever be complacent, especially after Bosco's untimely death—they had been distracted.

First by Hightower, who had shaken Lisbon's stalwart faith in her ability to do her job, placing Lisbon's senior agent title on the proverbial chopping block. Then the Rigsby and Van Pelt fiasco had occurred—also Hightower's (un)doing. The cases had been relatively "normal" (if there was even such a thing as "normal" in their line of work), and Jane seemed to be making progress. He was actually concerned about some of his actions and how they might affect her and the rest of the team, even hiding his plans from her so she wouldn't get implicated.

She'd also thought that Jane was (maybe subconsciously) taking note of the broken figures they saw constantly and realizing that maybe revenge wasn't the best option.

He was trying, and that had been enough for Lisbon.

But then all the distractions and supposed improvements had come to a halt when Kristina Frye suddenly reappeared, with her corkscrew red hair and proud demeanor and obvious attraction to Jane.

At first Lisbon hadn't really minded, except for how embarrassing Jane and Kristina's first encounter was. Kristina seemed to immediately set her sights on Jane. While Lisbon wanted to tell the redhead that it was probably not a very good idea to go down that road with the consultant, she bit her tongue. Kristina claimed to be psychic after all, she should know better; besides, all the ogling got on Lisbon's nerves and she decided to leave it be. At least then she wouldn't have to babysit Jane.

Also, Jane spending most of his time with the red-headed psychic, meant that he was annoying Lisbon less. She had more time to focus on the case instead of wondering where Jane was and whether she needed to put him on a leash.

However, after a while, Jane's pressing absence began to irk Lisbon. Before, he'd always _been there_, most often when she didn't want him to be. He had the childlike tendency of following people around, and usually his preferred target was Lisbon. His hovering could be annoying at times, but at least she knew what he was up to. Now she found she missed her impish shadow—though she would never let anyone know.

She rationalized that the only reason she missed him was his ability to rapidly solve cases, but that oft-used cop out was starting to sound tired, even to her ears—not to mention that it never fooled anyone else in the first place.

Then came the bar scene, where she and Jane were supposed to be conducting an _investigation_, not fueling Jane's already impressive ego. Really, it seemed that all the attention from Kristina Frye had gone to his head, since he was actually responding to the flirtatious looks from the bar's female clientele. She'd asked him what he was doing, put off not only because they were supposed to be on the job, not soliciting favors; but also because this was not the Jane she remembered. The Jane she knew would always flash his wedding ring in admiring women's faces, the glint of it taking the admirers by surprise just as his thousand-watt smile did. The Jane she knew still loved his dead wife, and she knew thoughts of that last day still haunted him, asleep or awake. His attachment to the ghosts of his past couldn't be thrown out in one day, by one woman. Lisbon wasn't buying it.

She especially didn't believe his whole charade with the call girl at the bar, especially when he tried to rope her into his whole charade. She couldn't deny the small fluttering in her stomach when he called her sweetheart and winked at her, but it was decidedly unprofessional and Teresa Lisbon was nothing if not professional at all times. _Calm and cool_, as she'd once described herself; even if her insides were tightening in anticipation and she was utterly confused.

All she knew was that if he made a comment about her handgun and handcuffs again, she was going to chain him somewhere with said apparatus—somewhere where he would have no adoring audience, no audience whatsoever.

Later, back at CBI headquarters, Lisbon decided to have a little chat with Frye. She wanted to see if she could discover some ulterior motive that the psychic had for showing up at the Serious Crimes Unit—besides picking up Jane. Lisbon didn't trust the woman, she found her irritating beyond degree, and until not long ago she thought Jane had too. The fleeting thought that somehow Frye had managed to do the unfathomable and hypnotize Jane was quickly discarded—Jane would never allow himself to be so vulnerable, and since he knew every trick of the trade—and had probably invented a few of his own—Lisbon didn't think hypnotizing the consultant would work. If it did, she would have had someone do it long ago—then maybe she wouldn't have the Mt. Everest of paperwork on her desk, ready to be scaled.

Lisbon didn't learn much from Frye, however. The smug woman gave the answer she had at the very beginning of the case—that she was offering her services. Lisbon had to bite her tongue to keep from retorting that they didn't need her "services," whatever they entailed. They did perfectly fine on their own. They already had one consultant, and he was enough trouble. She didn't need another mountain of paperwork—although somehow she knew that Kristina Frye's reappearance would give her just that.

Finally, the case was closed, albeit a bit comically, due to Frye and Jane's performance at the "séance." She had to admit, both were great actors. Yet she was tired of the theatrics and the drama. She just wanted a quiet moment to herself in her office. She thought she'd found it, after the usual closed-case pizza meal was over. Jane hadn't attended, but then again he always seemed to have some agenda of his own, and so Lisbon and the team didn't worry. Lisbon had, however, managed to sneak a piece past Rigsby's nose and had stuck it in the back of the refrigerator for Jane to find later.

Currently, Lisbon was sitting at her desk, allowing herself the indulgence of a chapter in her latest novel and a small piece of chocolate. She figured she deserved it after having to deal with two annoying consultants during the past case—but one chapter and it was back to business. She had just gotten to an engaging part of the chapter and was thoroughly engrossed when Jane decided to barge in. He was humming, the infernal man. Lisbon turned her fiercest glare on him—she thought her quota of Jane was filled for the day. He met her angry gaze with a grin, as usual.

"You're extremely chipper today, Jane," Lisbon growled, annoyed at the interruption.

"I have reason to be, Lisbon. We closed another case, and I have an awaiting cup of tea and dinner with good company to share them."

She snorted. "Since when have your couch and Elvis the ceiling spot been considered as good company, or even company for that matter?"

He shook his head. "Lisbon, Lisbon. Despite your unwavering doubt in me, I actually do have friends that I'd like to keep….and yes, they are of the human variety. I hope I can add Kristina to the list…" His musing was cut off by Lisbon's interruption.

"Kristina? As in Kristina Frye? As in the other annoying consultant floating around here? I thought you hated her, Jane. Or distrusted her, at the very least."

"Well, Lisbon, sometimes appearances can be deceiving. Look at you, for example. You want to come across as the tough as nails Agent Lisbon, Criminal Tackler Extraordinaire, but sometimes you can't help but indulge in a good romance. _Pride and Prejudice_, I'm thinking? And after you finish it, you're looking forward to moving on to _Pride and Prejudice and Zombies_, because the whole zombie motif matches the face that you present to the world. Not that you look like a zombie, but it fits with your fierce, crime fighting persona."

Lisbon gripped the paperweight, ready to defend herself. "Don't go turning this into a mind game, Jane. I'm not in the mood for one of your silly little traps. Just answer the question or _get out_."

"Well, Lisbon, I decided that I might could refine some of her techniques and use them myself. You know, the whole séance thing just ups the wow factor…."

"Wait, don't tell me, Jane. You're thinking she can somehow connect you with Red John? Is that it?"

"Hmm, Lisbon, you might want to go with _Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters _next. It might fit your current mood better."

The paperweight narrowly missed hitting him on his way out.

Her chapter currently forgotten, Lisbon tried to rationalize recent events. Even if Jane was taking Kristina Frye out to dinner, that didn't necessarily mean anything, right? Her accusation about a possible link to Red John was probably correct—Jane always had some ulterior motive. He had taken _her_ to dinner, hadn't he? And nothing had happened. Jane's rationale for taking her to dinner had been to apologize for whatever antic he'd committed during that case. It didn't seem to matter that he'd be back to his old tricks—harassing the suspects and creating chaos wherever he went—on the next case. He seemed to think that plying Lisbon with good food every now and then would make her disregard his flagrant abuse of the rules.

She was no Rigsby, but she was ashamed to admit that he was right.

To say that the next case had changed things was an understatement. Lisbon was by now thoroughly convinced that she would no longer be able to get anything resembling sense to come out of Jane's blond head. The reappearance of Red John had completely erased whatever progress that remained after Kristina Frye came back into the picture. Jane was once again the vengeful man with a one-track mind.

Jane hadn't even been there when the call had come in—he'd been off with Kristina on their date. Lisbon had delayed calling him for five minutes, not really wanting to begin yet another case by apologizing for whatever outlandish behavior Jane had decided to display this time. But when she'd finally called, knowing the CBI needed Jane's input, he'd seemed a little relieved. Apparently the date hadn't gone too well—but Lisbon wasn't concerned. She knew Jane's heart—the small part that hadn't been ripped out by Red John—was still attached to his wife and daughter, and if any of it could be spared it went to his couch and his tea. She and Grace, as his only female colleagues, were included in there somewhere, but Kristina was probably only a passing notion, or so Lisbon secretly hoped. One annoying consultant was enough.

Unfortunately, Lisbon needed the patience of a saint to deal with what came next—Kristina Frye's live "shout-out" to Red John and the downward spiral of events that came afterwards.

Jane's face upon seeing the psychic on the television screen was a study in the past coming back to haunt a person. Lisbon figured he saw himself making a similar snap comment years earlier, before everything had come crashing down in a crimson tide. And as the fallout from Kristina Frye's decision began to play out, Lisbon watched as her colleague and friend began to withdraw into himself once again, still fixated on the idea of catching Red John.

It seemed that at times he was clutching at straws, oddly rationalizing that since he couldn't go back in time to fix his own lethal mistake, he would do what he could to make sure someone else didn't make the same error. Jane really was a good man, even if he was unorthodox at times.

When they had gone to Frye's place to offer her protection, Lisbon had immediately wondered how similar Frye's posh, manicured residence was to Jane's Malibu house. The house felt cold, professional, just for show. Even Lisbon, who spent much more time at the CBI offices than her own home, had a more comfortable place than this austere one.

When they had finally left, assured that Grace would watch the psychic, Lisbon had tried to engage him in some banter, get his mind off the whole situation. He remained tight-lipped and grim, resembling Cho's often-used poker face more than his own animated one.

It was then that she became thoroughly convinced that he had sold his soul to the devil.

She'd thought that before, during the years of their acquaintance. She'd thought it every time something was mentioned that brought back painful memories of his wife and daughter and she saw how his eyes would darken and he would go off to a place no one dared enter. She'd thought it when Sophie Miller had resurfaced. She'd thought it each time Red John had come back, each time that Jane's eyes had lost a little more of their liveliness to the appearance-less man who nevertheless haunted them all.

She'd thought it during the Maya Plaskett case when she'd screamed at him, wanting to convey with every syllable how much his presence was wanted, _needed_. How they'd all wanted him to see his value, especially her. How much they loved him, whether in her individual case it was platonic or not. How much they all cared.

And then he'd gone and shot the devil's advocate, Hardy, to save her life. With the crack of a gunshot, and not the one meant for her, it had seemed like things were sealed. He'd decided on life. Her gun-shy consultant had saved her life, at the ironic expense of a crucial Red John witness. Didn't that mean something?

She had thought he'd slowly started to turn around then, started focusing on more important things. Even when he was up to his old tricks, fooling everyone in the book, it meant his mind was engaged with something else. As long as he didn't get her fired in the process, especially with Hightower lurking about, she really didn't much mind some of his escapades, especially when they made her smile, in spite of herself. Even the mental chess game, as annoying as that had been, had been preferable to melancholy, vengeance-driven Jane.

He had said he would always protect her while they were stuck in that shipping crate, but he was the one who always needed saving. Especially this time—from his own demons.

Lisbon had wanted to place a tracker on him, similar to the way he had spied on Bosco—here her mind paused a moment in remembrance of her dear friend and mentor before she regained her professional façade—but had decided against it, since he would probably know she had done it and would dispose of it right away. She told him to call Kristina Frye and go visit with her because then he would at least be under the watchful eyes of Grace and the other CBI operatives stationed at the woman's house.

However, about two hours after he'd left with an odd look in his eyes, Lisbon started to feel a little uneasy. It was almost as if she had a sixth sense when it came to Jane finding trouble—partially a throwback to her younger years when her brothers were little and she always knew when one of them had fallen out of a tree or had been hit in the head with a baseball. Also, it was partially the effect of her as-yet unresolved feelings for the blond-haired consultant. Either way, her mother hen tendencies were acting up; and she kept stealing glances at the phone, knowing a phone call was imminent. She tried to focus on the leads her team was following, but the nagging worry remained in the back of her mind.

When the call came, she was driving in pursuit of yet another potential lead. She surprised at the voice on the other end. It wasn't Jane, and it wasn't from a hospital. It was Hightower, and Lisbon's usually intimidating and professional boss was unnerved.

"Agent Lisbon, I think you should come back to the office. A message has been left for you…and it is extremely urgent. It deals with the case, but in a way it encompasses more than that." Hightower did not wait for Lisbon's response, but hung up instead. That fact, accompanied by her last sentence, disturbed Lisbon the most. Her boss was a stickler for correct protocol and would never end even a phone conversation without some kind of answer from the call's recipient. Lisbon quickly turned around in a parking lot and headed back to the CBI offices.

Hightower was waiting outside her office when Lisbon arrived. Minelli's replacement said nothing but pressed the message playback button on Lisbon's desk phone as soon as they were inside with the door shut. A voice filtered from the speaker, turning Lisbon's blood cold. The voice was raspy, filtered, disguised.

_Red John_.

"_Miss Lisbon…."_ The "s" sounds were drawn out in a hiss, a serpent on the end of the line. "_I've had the pleasure of once again seeing your Mr. Jane. It is such a thrill seeing his tortured, pained blue eyes. He is only a man, after all. Not invincible, like me. But his hand dared to seize the fire, and he shall burn for it. Not now, oh no. I have special plans for this one. Right now he's waiting, though. He's at 1794 West Broadway Street in Thousand Oaks. Waiting for you, Miss Lisbon…"_ The line crackled like hellfire and went dead.

Lisbon and her team were on the road in ten minutes.

When the CBI finally reached their destination, Lisbon had to slightly restrain herself from leaping out of the car and busting the doors down on the dilapidated building. But that wouldn't be professional, and they were in the middle of a downtown area on a sunny California afternoon.

Lisbon swiftly crossed the street, boots clacking on the asphalt. Cho came just behind her, followed by Rigsby. Her hands shook as she opened the doors to the old hotel and stepped inside. The stench of blood mixed with something inherently more evil hit them when they entered and grew with each step they took. Around a corridor, through a door…Lisbon thought they would wander for eternity when they finally came into a large room that must have been a ballroom once.

She saw the bodies of the victim's two friends, their camera equipment strewn out beside them except for one lone camera whose red light was still blinking. The first suspect was lying still, motionless due to a gunshot wound in the leg. She vaguely heard Cho and Rigsby's voices announce that the area was clear, intent on finding Jane.

Then she saw him. He was in the middle of the room but slightly off-center, tied to a chair with plastic wrap, eyes shut tight, hands clenched. Lisbon holstered her gun and gently reached out to him. "Jane." At her touch on his arm, he jolted, bringing his arm up in an attempt to defend himself and almost catching her in the face. "Jane," she said again, soothingly. "Jane. It's me, Lisbon…Teresa."

His eyes opened, and she knew she'd never forget his expression for as long as she lived. His blue eyes were almost hollow, empty, devoid of feeling. No spark of any kind, mischievous or otherwise. Just the blank stare of a haunted man. Soulless.

Some recognition sparked in his eyes. "Lisbon? Teresa?" he murmured.

"That's right, Jane. I'm here. Are you okay? What happened?"

Deflecting the question as usual, he asked her one instead. "How did you find me?"

"Red John called….the CBI…and left a message….for me, about three hours after you left, detailing where you were. I'm so sorry I didn't place you under lock and key, Jane. If I had known he would find you, I would have chained you to my couch."

"He called you?" Some flicker of anger resurfaced in Jane's eyes at Lisbon's words. "That son of a…..if he threatened you…._so many lives_…" He trailed off for a moment, eyes glazed, and then spoke again. "Teresa, you and I both know that he would have lured me out somehow, and even if he hadn't, I would have found a way to escape. It's better this way…he didn't infiltrate the CBI again….not physically. Now tell me what he said."

"Not until you tell me what happened to you first," she commanded, and he sighed and told her what had transpired, parts of it, at least. She had a suspicion that he was leaving things out, but didn't press him. She was just glad to know that he was still alive, that there was still a chance. She allowed herself to squeeze his hand as he talked, and he gave her a reassuring smile. _There was still a chance._

Patrick Jane might have sold his soul to the devil, but Mother Teresa Lisbon would be damned if she let him go without a fight.

**A/N: I enjoyed writing this, even though internet trouble got in the way at the very last. I hope you enjoyed reading it—now hit that review button, please! Cookies to those who review, and extra cookies for those who can identify the line I used from William Blake's "The Tyger." **


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